


five times they were almost found out and the one time everyone found out

by helenblqckthorn



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: 5+1 Things, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, Waking up in the same bed, almost getting caught, and not-so-drunken shenanigans, eventual falling for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23743462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helenblqckthorn/pseuds/helenblqckthorn
Summary: “Come again?” Thomas asked, eyebrows sky-high.Anna looked entirely casual as she stirred her tea and said: “I only asked when you might make a move on Alastair Carstairs.”Thomas didn’t think he’d heard correctly. “Sorry, what?”or: what happens when you let two oblivious idiots get together in secret.
Relationships: Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 431





	five times they were almost found out and the one time everyone found out

**Author's Note:**

> hello!!!!!!!! chog has brought me back to tsc once more (these characters do be having me in a chokehold) and i became very emo over thomastair so i wrote some nice fluff and pretended the ending to the book never happened <3 first time writing these two so i haven't gotten entirely inside of their heads yet so apologies for the lack of prose!

Thomas had witnessed plenty of scandalous sights in his lifetime, but he was sure that he would never be a part of one. He had accidentally walked in on Anna in an…. intimate embrace with another lady, he’d seen girls or boys stumble out of Matthew’s room — on occasion both at once, but he was absolutely certain that when he found a partner, he would make sure that that humiliation would never befall him. Matthew and Anna could handle it because they were… Matthew and Anna — but he was just Thomas. And people like Thomas didn’t get up to hijinks in and around the bedroom.

Or so he thought.

1.

It was the night before Cordelia and James wedding — their _real_ wedding, as everyone had discovered that their previous had been fake, for Grace Blackthorn had effectively cursed James into falling in love with her. The revelation of the sham engagement had of course broken Will’s, Sona’s, and Tessa’s hearts, but it actually turned out that they were both in love with each other anyways, James had just been manipulated into believing that he was not. Thomas was still getting his head around the whole idea, nevertheless he was incredibly happy that his friend was finally free of the weight that had been crushing him for so long.

They had been quick to break the cursed bracelet, thanks to Cortana, and now celebration was in order. Therefore, instead of individual celebrations for the bride and groom on the night before their wedding, Cordelia and James had decided to just have one together, with their closest friends.

It was a joyful atmosphere, everyone in the Institute’s ballroom laughing and dancing with each other. Thomas had danced with most of the girls from the family, although he couldn’t remember exactly who — he was on his 7th? 8th drink? Things were starting to appear a little fuzzy around the edges, but he was perfectly content. He would usually have been a tad more careful with his drink, having always been cautious, but tonight he felt he could sack it off.

He stood off to the side, his tie loosened and drink in hand, surveying the room. Anna was dancing closely with Ariadne — he was very glad his cousin had finally stopped pretending not to pine and be with the person she wanted to be with – Matthew was dancing with Lucie, his face merry and less unfocused than it had been in a long time. Cordelia was swaying side-by-side with James, her head on his shoulder, entirely wrapped up in each other. Something about the image made Thomas’s heart ache. In longing? Love? He didn’t know, and was too happy in that moment to care.

His mother and father were dancing sweetly together, as were Auntie Cecily and Uncle Gabriel, and Will — hold on a minute. Will was now standing on one of the many chairs lining the room, which he had dragged to the middle of the space.

“Excuse me!” He shouted above the music and chatter, tapping a fork against an elegant champagne flute rather heavy-handedly. “Excuse—oops,” he looked down to see he had shattered the flute, and looked up at everyone’s laughter, grinning sheepishly.

“Anyway,” Will continued breezily, tossing both utensils behind him. “I just want to say a few embarrassing words to the two people for whom we are here,” he gestured to James and Cordelia, and a few whoops broke out. “James, I love you, Cordelia, I adore you, and I hope you both have the happiest life together imaginable. You truly deserve it,” he declared, a little teary-eyed. James and Cordelia were beaming at him, a similar glossy shine to their eyes.

“Now! Three cheers for the bride and groom!” He shouted, and lead them. Thomas joined in, grinning ear to ear as it was followed by a round of applause. The music then resumed, alongside the dancing, and Cordelia and James headed towards Will to embrace him.

“There’s something about that display which rather tugs at my heartstrings,” a voice said from beside him. Thomas knew who it was without turning.

“Really?” he said, tossing the rest of his drink back. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d’ve found something like that sickeningly adorable.”

“Oh, don’t get the wrong impression, Lightwood,” Alastair said, wagging his finger at him. “I definitely do. However, more adorable than sickening.”

Thomas grinned. “Congratulations. You really are a changed man.”

Alongside all the mess with Grace, Cordelia, and James, the group’s issues with Alastair had mostly been resolved. There had been an incident involving Matthew, Christopher, Thomas, Alastair, himself, and a greater demon that preyed on and revealed a person’s darkest memories that Thomas was likely to never forget. Secrets were revealed, some tears were shed, and apologies took place. James and Alastair were perfectly content in each other’s company as a result, in fact, they were even friendly. Christopher was happy to explain his experiments to Alastair, which Thomas took as progress in friendship.

Matthew was still a dicey area. Thomas didn’t think he’d ever understand the pain that he’d gone through at such a young age, and even though it wasn’t his fault, he could see why the memory was attached to Alastair. It would be a while before the two of them could sit comfortably together as friends.

Thomas himself was happy be in Alastair’s company as he used to be — the only difference was that a few of Alastair’s walls had been broken down and he was more relaxed. Well, he had been happy to be in his company until recently. There had been a revelation in Thomas’s life which had taken him back to the very beginning of their acquaintanceship and made him re-evaluate every single thought he’d had since them. It had been very recent, actually, as in the day before yesterday recent.

He’d been at Anna’s flat, passing by on his way to the Institute, when she’d said something very odd.

_“Come again?” Thomas asked, eyebrows sky-high._

_Anna looked entirely casual as she stirred her tea and said: “I only asked when you might make a move on Alastair Carstairs.”_

_Thomas didn’t think he’d heard correctly. “Sorry, what?”_

_Anna dipped her biscuit into her tea nonchalantly. “Thomas, come off it. We both know that you’re interested in him.”_

_“I don’t—I—what?” He stammered, his mind whirring one hundred miles per hour, and also seemingly at a standstill._

_“Tom, you don’t need to hide it from me - I just merely observed your behaviour around him and thought you might make a move.”_

_Thomas ran through every encounter he’d ever had with Alastair Carstairs in his mind, recalling every look, movement, and feeling he’d had in those moments in a new light. He thought about the way he’d imagined how soft Alastair’s dark hair might feel if he touched it, how striking his rare smile was, how his heart had felt so heavy watching every encounter between Charles and Alastair._

_How angry and hurt he’d been when he’d found out the rumour that Alastair had spread, like it had been a personal betrayal. How, in the final battle, he’d looked over and thought Alastair to be dead, and his whole world had stopped moving. The aching, hungry desire that had possessed him whenever Alastair had brushed past him, held his arm for an iratze, stroked his inner arm to examine the place Thomas had planned for his tattoo to be –_

_“By the angel,” Thomas breathed, his eyes blown wide. “I’m interested in Alastair Carstairs.”_

_“Hold on, you honestly didn’t know?” Anna said, looking befuddled._

_Thomas pushed away from the table and sprinted to the bathroom._

_“Don’t chuck up in there, I’ve just had it cleaned!” She called after him._

_He skidded to a stop in front of Anna’s elegant porcelain sink, and yanked the tap on. He splashed cold water onto his face, and with his face dripping, he clenched the sides of the sink and looked up at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were flushed, and he looked utterly shaken._

_“You,” he told his reflection. “Are an absolute fool.”_

This encounter with Anna was partially the reason for which he was drinking himself into a stupor. He did not really know how to deal with this new information, that had seemingly been simmering underneath the surface of his knowledge for so long, and he didn’t fancy going back to Anna to ask her to talk him through it after he’d made such a buffon of himself. Matthew was out of the question, if he even had an inkling that Alastair may be in a position to take advantage of Thomas, there may be blood spilled, and Charles was even further out of the question. Thomas shuddered to think what that conversation could look like.

So instead, he’d taken his problems to drink. Not entirely mature of him, it was true, but it was a way to release tension.

A thought occurred to him, and Thomas frowned and looked down at Alastair, who was also holding a drink, swaying slightly. “I thought you didn’t drink?”

“Eh,” Alastair waved his hand. “Not usually. But my father isn’t here, and I am bitter that almost everyone here is gazing into someone else’s eyes, and that I am not. I thought I’d give it a go. It feels very relaxing. I can see why people do it all the time. Though I won’t. Do it all the time, that is.”

He said this all at a fair speed. It seemed that Alastair was also fairly tipsy. Maybe a tad more than tipsy.

He knew the vague details of Alastair’s issues with his father and drink, so it was nice to see him try to overcome that, in a way. It was also nice to see him loose and laid-back. His top button had come undone, revealing a segment of his collarbone, and his eyes were sparkling.

How Thomas had not known he was attracted to the man before, was unthinkable.

“Hmm. Well, if it helps, I’m not gazing into anyone’s eyes either,” Thomas commented, a little glumly.

“Hmm.”

Thomas’s eyes flicked down towards Alastair again, and as if he felt the movement, Alastair looked upwards to meet his stare. They held this look for what felt like a minute too long.

“Unless,” Thomas said, and swallowed against a sudden, very dry throat.

“Unless what?”

“Forget it,” He waved Alastair off, faux-casually. What was he doing?! There wasn’t any possibility of Alastair being interested in him, none at—

Alastair shifted a little closer to him, his huge and dark and very near. “Thomas.”

He very nearly gave a full body shiver at the sound of Alastair speaking his name.

“Alastair,” he said back, and for some wild reason, abandoned all sense and gave into the haze the liquor had given him. “Would you like to, ah, accompany me to-um-the restroom?”

“I have an even better idea,” Alastair said, not breaking his gaze as he set down his glass on a nearby table. “Why don’t we go and admire… um… the paintings in one of the many bedrooms in this place.”

“Amazing,” Thomas breathed, following Alastair as he walked at a brisk but discreet pace out of the ballroom door.

* * *

“Well, this will certainly do,” Alastair whispered, peering around the door of an unused bedroom. He leant too far forward and stumbled into the space, cursing slightly. “I am very much not sober.”

“Neither am I,” Thomas whispered, following him into the room, and leaned back on the wall to steady himself. He misjudged it slightly, falling further back than he had intended. “Ow.”

He corrected himself, and looked at Alastair, who was regarding him with an odd look. Thomas was far too gone to try and decipher it, and instead tried to think of what to say next.

Alastair did the thinking for him. “Is everyone staying here tonight? For the wedding?”

“Yes,” Thomas said.

“Hmm. Good.”

“Why?” Thomas asked.

“Why what?” Alastair said, confused.

“Why is it good that everyone’s staying here tonight?”

“Oh,” Alastair fidgeted, with what Thomas realised was nervousness. His heart clenched in a strange emotion, and some of the tension that had been running through him was eased by the fact that Alastair was _nervous_. Alastair, who kept his emotions under a strict lock and key.

“It means that there… won’t be questions as to where we’ve gone in the morning.”

“Ah. Clever.”

They regarded one another from across the bedroom. There was little light in the room, but what was lit was done so by the moon. It cast a white sheen across the furniture, and turned the tips of Alastair’s hair silver. The man in question gazed at him, with what Thomas now realised was an expectant look.

Ah. He was _waiting_ for him.

“Oh, blast the small talk. Alastair—“ 

“Yes.” Alastair said immediately, having known what was going to be asked.

The moonlight from the windows made Alastair’s eyes gleam, and Thomas strode across the room, a man possessed, and kissed him.

It felt… wonderful. It felt euphoric. It felt so _nice_.

Thomas cupped the back of Alastair’s head and deepened the kiss, and it felt like Alastair had been waiting for a signal of sorts, for as soon as Thomas did, he came alive under Thomas’s touch, and ran his hands up Thomas’s back and clenched his hands in his shirt. Thomas groaned, and pulled Alastair further into their embrace, which made them both gasp.

Thomas broke away, head spinning and breathing heavily. “Wait, wait.”

“What? What is it?” Alastair’s face creased with worry as Thomas backed away.

“We _cannot_ do this with the door open,” he said as he kicked the door shut.

It made a loud bang, and they both winced. He turned back to the other man, who shrugged. “It’s not like they’ll be able to hear anything.”

Thomas laughed, and Alastair’s face split into a smile as he stalked towards him, shucking his jacket off as he approached. Thomas struggled to do the same, and then caught Alastair by the waist and pushed him against the wall. They met halfway in a messy kiss, their movements much more urgent than before.

Thomas pressed into the embrace, feeling the shape of Alastair’s body against his own. It was sensationally obscene, and made Alastair make an outrageous noise that would normally have caused Thomas to flush.

Now, however, it only spurred him on, and his movements became frantic. Alastair broke away to wrestle his waistcoat and shirt off, and Thomas took signal to do the same. Shoes were next, which was difficult in their intoxicated state, and made Thomas almost fall over, but he recovered.

They toppled onto the bed together, kissing and sighing and moving and gasping together as one, until everything fell away in a drunken haze of pleasure.

* * *

A loud bang made Thomas jump out of his skin, and awaken. He blinked blearily to see the shape of James focus in clarity, until his ecstatic facial expression was visible.

“I’M GETTING MARRIED TODAY!” James shouted from the doorway, raising his arms in the air and waving them around in excitement.

Thomas craned his neck into an awkward upwards position, and raised his arms as well, albeit less energetically. James had clearly been awake for some time.

“Yes you are!” He attempted to shout back, then winced when his head throbbed. How much had he drunk last night?

James gave another exuberant noise and wiggle in the doorway, clearly waiting for another response. Thomas showed him a thumbs up. James took that as the best he was going to get, whooped once more and skipped down the corridor. 

“Do you think he noticed me?” Alastair Carstairs said uneasily, poking his head out from underneath the covers. Underneath the covers of his bed. The one that Thomas was sleeping in. Without any clothing on.

This time Thomas really did yell, and accidentally fell sideways out of the bed. Alastair shushed him ferociously, shuffling across the bed in the mountain of bedcovers to maintain his modesty.

“Shit,” Thomas said, staring up at him, the tail end of the sheet covering most of his torso and nether regions. “Shit shit shit.”

Alastair rubbed his head, grimacing. “How much did we have to drink?”

“Ohhh this is so bad. This is very bad,” Thomas breathed, raking a hand through his hair.

“Is it that bad for your dignity to have had relations with me?” Alastair began to look offended.

“No! I mean, yes—no! I meant…” Thomas trailed off, wide-eyed from panic. “Oh, God. You don’t understand. Your sister will absolutely murder me.”

“What are you on about?”

“I mean, first of all, she hasn’t completely forgiven us for shutting you out—“

“That was understandable, though,” Alastair pointed out.

“Yes but—look, do you remember how she was with Charles?”

Thomas had always known what was going on between Charles and Alastair, and now understand why exactly he was so invested and hurt by the arrangement. Alastair had moved on—clearly—but there had been a few arguments between the two of them afterwards, and Charles had imparted some very hurtful words on one occasion. Both Cordelia and Alastair no longer tolerated his presence, and Cordelia had become very protective of her brother. She was cold and unforgiving towards Charles in any given circumstance.

“If she ever finds out, she’ll think I’ll have taken advantage of you or something!” Thomas finished.

“Oh no,” Alastair said, realisation dawning on his face as he sat up ramrod straight. “Oh _no_.”

“I told you so!” Thomas exclaimed, gesturing as he sat up from the floor.

“No, you don’t get it,” Alastair groaned, clapping a hand to his forehead in alarm. “Your friends will _kill_ me.”

“No they wouldn—Oh Christ, they would.”

“Bloody hell, Fairchild will string me up for the eagles to peck out my eyes at dawn,” Alastair gasped, clutching the bedcovers.

Footsteps sounded from the corridor outside, and they both looked at each other like deer in the headlights, before Thomas scrambled off the floor, ran to the door and slammed it shut, holding his weight against it.

A knock came from behind him. “Hello? Tom, you in there?”

“It’s Matthew,” Thomas mouthed at Alastair in horror. Alastair looked momentarily terrified — and then his eyes dropped.

Thomas realised that he wasn’t wearing anything, and closed his eyes slowly, painfully.

“Tom? Hello?” Matthew repeated, knocking again.

“Yes, it’s me — just getting changed, sorry! Don’t come in!” Thomas insisted, his voice breaking embarressingly.

“I won’t…” Matthew trailed off, suspicion colouring his voice. “Wait, is there someone in there with you?”

“Say no,” hissed Alastair, untangling himself from the bedsheets and hastily attempting to collect his discarded clothing.

“Um—“ Thomas began, but Matthew’s gasp cut him off.

“There is someone in there with you!” He said gleefully. “Tom, mate, I’m proud of you. We’re celebrating tonight.”

Thomas watched absent-mindedly as Alastair yanked his trousers on with ferocious force, wondering how on earth he managed to land himself in this situation.

“Can I come in?” Matthew asked, and Alastair tripped over his shoes.

“No!” Thomas shouted, and realised that had been a rather dramatic response. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Um, not at the moment Math. Look, I’ll meet you later, alright?”

“Hmph. Too busy with your new lover. I see how it is.”

Thomas had never wanted to throw himself in front of carriage before, but he was seriously considering it in that moment. He couldn’t look Alastair in the eye, not even as he caught the undergarments that Alastair had thrown at him. 

“See you later, Tom,” Matthew called, his voice fading as he walked away from the door. “And Thomas’s _lover_.”

He rested his head against the back of the door, having secured decency by pulling his undergarments on. His heart was racing as if he’d just done a sprint. “Christ.”

Alastair had finished putting on his clothing, although his waistcoat was buttoned up unevenly, and his shirt was untucked. His hair was an absolute mess from sleep. It was fairly adorable.

He hadn’t even had time to think about last night, but the memories were coming back to him now. Laying his weight on top of Alastair, threading his hands into his hair, Alastair sliding his fingers down his torso and—

“Thomas,” Alastair began, breaking him out of his immensely pleasurable thoughts. “I—“

But he never finished, for it was at that exact moment that more footsteps echoed down the hall, and a familiar voice called out.

“Alastair,” Cordelia shouted. “Alastair, where are you?”

One of the doors nearby to where they were hiding opened, and closed. Then another one did the same.

Alastair swore violently, and whirled his head around the room in search of places to hide. Thomas did the same, praying for his life, but there was no feasible way that they would be able to hide Alastair inconspicuously. There was only one way out.

“The window,” Thomas hissed, jerking his head towards it. “Go!”

Alastair hesitated, but then another door opened and closed in the near distance, announcing Cordelia’s imminent arrival. Thomas ran over to help him, and together they worked at the latch vigorously, eventually managing to slide it open. Alastair climbed out onto the tiles, but just before he took off, Thomas lurched towards him.

“Wait—“ he whispered. Alastair froze in his tracks.

“Will I ever,” Thomas said in a lowered voice. “Can I—could we—?”

Although he couldn’t get the words out, Alastair seemed to understand at once. He ducked his head back inside, and kissed him lightly.

“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered as his slid out, and ran along the roof until no longer visible. Thomas touched two fingers to his lips, savouring the feeling of Alastair’s soft lips on his, and smiled to himself.

2.

The opening chords to Canon in D sounded out on the squeaky organ that Magnus Bane has managed to conjure, and there was a collective shuffling of feet as the hundred of people seated in pews got to their feet. Thomas turned to look behind him, alongside everyone else, to see Cordelia and Lucie making their way down the isle. There was a murmur of awe as everyone took in the sight of Cordelia in her deep golden gown, looking as radiant as the sun with the brightest smile to match. Lucie looked overjoyed, and gave a little wave to the friends and family seated in the front rows.

Finally they reached the altar, and Lucie passed Cordelia onto her brother, who looked the happiest that Thomas had seen him in a very long time. Matthew stood beside him, in dashing cream and cerulean attire, looking on at the couple with nothing but joy in his eyes.

There had been a brief period of tension between the three of them, Thomas remembered, but it had since been resolved. Matthew was taking the steps to recovery from his drinking problem — which none of them had realised was that out of hand — and learning to love himself before loving others. Thomas was extraordinarily proud of his friend.

“Dearly beloved,” Brother Zachariah — Jem — began. He was dressed in his usual Silent Brother robes, and was officiating the wedding at the request of James and Cordelia. Will had reportedly cried when he’d found out, James had told them. “We are gathered here today…”

Thomas let his gaze wander at this point during the vows, and let it settle on the row to the front and right of him. Alastair was sitting next to his mother and father, attention rapt on Cordelia, a content smile on his face. Thomas let his eyes linger on him, drinking in the handsome contrast of his dark suit against his brown skin.

As if feeling eyes on him, Alastair very slightly turned his head, and his eyes drifted over to Thomas. It was an unfamiliar feeling, allowing himself to admire Alastair and have him be aware of it. The corner of Alastair’s lips quirked discreetly.

“So beautiful, isn’t it?” Eugenia whispered from next to him, sniffling. Thomas nearly jumped in his seat, still twitchy from that morning and the threat of being caught. He didn’t know what his and Alastair’s relationship meant at the moment — if they even had a meaning to each other — so he didn’t want to let on any indication of the sort to anyone.

“Erm, yes,” Thomas hastily agreed in a whisper, nodding his head perhaps a bit too fast. When his eyes darted back to Alastair, Thomas saw that his lips were pursed in an expression that he hadn’t seen very often on the other man’s face: trying to suppress laughter.

Managing to cause such a rare event gave him a surge of elation, and he sat back and smiled to himself.

“You may now kiss,” Jem finished, and the whole hall whooped when Cordelia pulled James in.

* * *

“Is this seat taken?”

Thomas startled, and looked up to see Alastair hovering beside the seat next to him. His face was carefully neutral in the multi-coloured lighting of the room, which Magnus Bane had somehow managed to enchant.

“No! Uh, no — no one’s sitting here,” Thomas hastily straightened in his chair, gesturing for Alastair to sit.

He’d been taking a break for a breather. He loved his family, but sometimes it all became a little too much. Thomas was perfectly happy to sit back at one of the tables and watch on in amusement as everyone became more drunk and their dancing became worse. For instance, he could see in that moment that Lucie was trying to dance with that resurrected Blackthorn boy, and repeatedly nearly falling over.

“I would go and dance, but I don’t want to be ridiculed by association,” Alastair mused, leaning his hands on the table and placing his chin on them.

“Hm.” Thomas raised his eyebrows.

Alastair turned his head in his hands to face him, narrowing his eyes. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Thomas said airily. He paused for a moment. “You know that they’re all alright with you now, right? You don’t have to pretend to dislike them to avoid becoming hurt.”

Alastair stared at him mutely, his expression exposed.

Thomas shrugged, smiling minutely. He turned his gaze back to the dancing. “Just thought I’d say.”

They both stared forward in silence. Then Alastair cleared his throat.

“I can’t believe I’m about to suggest this,” he muttered to himself, running a hand over his face. “This is a very, very bad idea.”

Thomas suddenly understood what he was talking about, and his heart leapt in fear and anticipation. He threaded his hands together on the table in front of him. “A terrible idea, really.”

“Incorrigibly bad.” Alastair added, then took a deep breath. “I’ll meet you in the bathroom in five minutes.”

“Absolutely,” Thomas said breathlessly, watching him stand up and walk with a fast pace towards the exit. He sat there and fidgeted for another three minutes, then couldn’t stand it anymore and jolted up, nearly tripping over his chair in an attempt to get away from the table.

He was halfway across the room when he was sabotaged by a drunken James Herondale.

“Tom!” James cried, as if they hadn’t seen each other for years. He fell onto Thomas, which, with all the muscle Thomas had gained, was rather like falling onto a solid surface. “Tom, I love you so much. I love you! So much.”

“I love you too, Jamie,” Thomas said distractedly, looking wildly around for someone to pass him off onto.

James gasped into his chest dramatically. “You do!” He staggered upright and poked Thomas in the chest. “I’m a married man!”

“Yes Jamie,” Thomas said, patting him on the shoulder. “And I’m happy for you. Now go and find your bride.”

James whirled around and started to shout Cordelia’s name, whilst Thomas crept away, his walk turning into a sprint when he reached the doors.

He reached the bathroom and threw the door open, revealing Alastair leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed. He gestured impatiently. “What took you so long?”

“James decided to drunkenly harass me,” Thomas, said, already striding forward and stripping his coat off. Alastair met him halfway and threw his arms around his neck, kissing him passionately.

Thomas hadn’t been able to recall most of the details from the night before, which was slightly upsetting, as he’d been given the chance to kiss Alastair Carstairs for the first time and had forgotten it. This, however, made up for it. Alastair’s mouth moved in a way which made him weak at the knees, and let out a sinful groan as Alastair walked backward and hit the wall, so that their bodies were once more aligned with one another.

Alastair broke away, lips red and eyes hazy. “If we are doing this,” he said, and then kissed Thomas once more as if he couldn’t help himself. “Then we need to lay out some rules.”

“Agreed.” Thomas ducked his head and start to mouth at Alastair’s neck, making him sharply inhale and clutch at Thomas’s back.

“I am attracted to you,” Alastair sighed, throwing his head back against the wall as Thomas progressed on his neck. “And I’d hazard a guess that you feel the same about me.”

Thomas really had no idea what he was doing, but judging by Alastair’s reactions it really wasn’t half-bad. He nipped at Alastair’s neck, and he let out a gasping whine that made Thomas shudder with pleasure and anticipation. “You’re correct.”

“Right,” Alastair panted, winding his fingers into Thomas’s hair as he made his way to Alastair’s chest. Thomas took a moment to rid Alastair of his jacket, and to unbutton his shirt. “But I’m not sure such an arrangement would go down well with the others.”

Thomas paused in the middle of undoing a button. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if it is to be… casual, then I’m not sure half of them would approve. Especially as it’s us,” Alastair half-grimaced. “You know they’d make a massive thing of it.”

He pondered this, and felt a little deflated, though he didn’t know why. Alastair was right though, they clearly had an attraction to one another, but it was still very early days. To make it public would impose expectations onto them, which would ruin it. Thomas also wanted to live, and not die by Cortana’s blade.

“You’re correct,” Thomas agreed, knitting his eyebrows as he sat back on his knees. “How will we — if you want to continue, that is — how will we, ah, meet?”

Alastair smiled wickedly. “Oh, I want to continue all right,” he said, and a bolt of heat shot through Thomas’s body. He gave Thomas his hand to help him up, and sidled closer so that their chests were touching. He held his breath, unnerved at being so close to the other man. Alastair’s eyes were half-lidded. “I think we can come up with some sort of arrangement.”

With that, Alastair closed the distance between their lips, and Thomas let himself move into the kiss, his eyes falling shut, hand coming up to touch the side of Alastair’s face.

“This is a terrible idea,” he breathed when Alastair broke away and sunk to his knees, arousal coursing through him at the sight.

“Yes,” the other agreed, popping the button on Thomas’s trousers open with a smirk. “An utterly appallingly dreadful idea.”

Alastair was just unzipping his trousers when a loud banging came from the door, making them both jump about a metre in the air.

“Hellooooo,” the voice of James Herondale slurred from the other side of the door. “Is anyone in there—”

His speech was cut off by a retching noise, and hurried footsteps ran away from their hiding place. Thomas grimaced. “Eugh.”

“Agreed,” Alastair said in disgust, but then moved his attention back to the matter of the present, twisting his hand in a way which made Thomas throw his head back against the wall and see stars.

“Ah,” he panted. “Oh, _Christ.”_

“I’m flattered.”

3.

“I think I want a tattoo,” Matthew announced on the way back from the Devil’s Tavern. He turned to face the rest of them, walking backwards on the pavement.

Christopher adjusted his glasses with a slight frown. “Er — Matthew, I hate to break it to you, but you already have several. You know, being a Shadowhunter and all. Someone who has to draw tattoos on themselves.”

Matthew shook his head in exasperation. “No, Kit. An _actual_ tattoo. You know, like Thomas’s.”

“Ah, the elusive tattoo,” James said, grinning sideways at Thomas, who rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“I don’t know why you keep calling it that, I’ve already shown you all on multiple occasions.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Matthew said loudly, drawing the attention back to him. “I was thinking of having one, but I don’t know what I want it to be.”

“You want a tattoo without knowing what actual tattoo you want?” Christopher said amusedly. “Sounds a bit insubstantial.”

James snorted, and Matthew looked outraged. “You did not just call me _insubstantial_.”

“Alright, Math,” Christopher said, as he turned the corner of the street on which the Institute was.

“I have enough substance for all of you put together, I’ll have you know!”

“What does that mean?” Thomas muttered, and James shrugged. The Institute loomed over them as they approached it, almost the same grey as the sky currently was. Blasted English weather. He dearly missed the heat and sun of Madrid.

“Honestly, I need help in deciding,” Matthew complained as they mounted the steps. “You lot are being so unsupportive.”

“Look, you need a reason for the tattoo,” Thomas explained, recalling his reasoning for his own tattoo. “A drive. It has to have a meaning to you.”

“Alright, Sir Symbolism,” Matthew said loftily, as they walked inside the hall, disposing their coats and hats. “What does yours mean to you?”

Thomas paused in his movements, hands clutching his coat. “My tattoo?” He repeated.

“Yes, you dolt.”

He looked down at the place on his shirt beneath which the tattoo was, and thought of its spiralling shape — the compass that steadied him, the rose that pricked at a first touch but gentle and soft if you knew where to hold it.

“It means…” He began, but trailed off at the sight of two people down the hall. Ariadne Bridgestock stood in a doorway, energetically conversing with none other than Alastair Carstairs, who was nodding along, an engaged look upon his face. It was then that he caught sight of Thomas staring at him, and held his gaze. Alastair gave him a discreet wave.

Ariadne turned to see who he was waving at, saw the boys and joined him in greeting them from a distance. She looked beautiful in a dark green frock, but Thomas only had eyes for the man beside her, whose hair was casually wild from the wind, and ash-grey suit tailored compellingly.

Thomas waved back.

Matthew interrupted their charged stare with a prod at Thomas and a polite nod at Alastair. “You were saying…?”

“Oh,” Thomas startled, trying to remember what they’d been talking about. Tattoos and meaning. Right. A subject that he wanted to avoid. “Well, it just signifies… a direction.”

James raised an eyebrow at that.

“A direction,” Matthew said, unimpressed.

“Yes!” He replied defensively. “It keeps me grounded. You know, a compass point you… to where you should go?”

“That’s so abstract,” Matthew said thoughtfully, as they made their way down the corridor to the dining room. Alastair and Ariadne had seemingly disappeared while they had been chatting, which disappointed him. “I _love_ it. Jamie, do you think I should go for something like that?”

“I think you should Oscar Wilde’s face tattooed on your chest,” James said with a perfectly straight face. “That way it symbolises your admiration for him in an abstract way.”

Matthew shoved him as James broke out into laughter. “Oi!”

Thomas followed behind them. He was about to add a cutting remark about James being one to talk, as he was related to someone with a notorious tattoo on their ass, but a cupboard door next to him opened quite suddenly. He was yanked into the small space by a hand.

“Wha—!” He started as he was plunged into darkness but was cut off by a very familiar voice.

“Shh!” Alastair whispered ferociously, touching a finger to Thomas’s lips, which shut him up immediately. “Wait until they’re gone down the corridor.”

They waited in darkness for a few seconds, pressed so close together that Thomas could feel Alastair’s heartbeat pounding against his chest. This only increased Thomas’s heart rate.

There was a fumbling, and all at once the small cupboard was filled with a white light — witchlight, which Alastair was holding. It revealed the amused expression on his face when he leaned in so that their lips were almost touching. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Thomas exhaled against his mouth, tension dissipating from his body as he curved into Alastair’s. “May I ask what we are doing in a broom closet?”

“Well, obviously we are having illusive, passionate activities somewhere where people would not normally think to venture,” Alastair affected a patronising voice, but his mouth betrayed him as Thomas could feel him holding back a smile.

Since the wedding, they hadn’t had a chance to meet up together, per say. There were several group gatherings, of which they were both a part of, but it was rather hard to sneak off during those, especially when everyone was sober. So, Thomas had pined frustratedly from a distance, remembering… details… from the wedding late at night in his own bed. Needless to say, it had been an unsatisfying few weeks.

But now…

“Oh, obviously,” Thomas murmured, and couldn’t stand it any longer, tilting forward so that their mouths fully met in a kiss.

Alastair inhaled through his nose, rising up into the embrace and draping his arms around Thomas. He exhaled into the kiss as Thomas drew him closer by the waist, and Thomas wondered if he were dreaming. It still hadn’t hit him that was able to do this with Alastair, after secretly yearning for so long, not even as the man in question lightly bit Thomas’s lip as they kissed, drawing his leg up the side of Thomas’s.

“Alastair,” he gasped in approval, tightening his grip around the other man.

“Thomas!”

That was definitely not Alastair.

“Thomas!” Lucie called, from what sounded like the dining room.

“Bloody hell,” Alastair cursed quietly, separating his mouth from Thomas, who made a disappointed noise at the loss of contact.

“Thomas, food is ready!” Lucie shouted, sounding near.

“Don’t make a sound,” Thomas whispered against Alastair’s ear, who shivered.

Lucie’s footsteps faded away, and they both breathed a sigh of relief.

“That was close,” Alastair admitted, sliding his leg back down so that he was standing on two feet. The mood had slightly died, which was rather unfortunate.

“There’s something exciting about the danger of being caught, though.” Thomas commented off-handedly, looking at the door. It was true. The spike of adrenaline at the fear of being caught just intensified the whole experience.

Alastair hadn’t responded, so Thomas frowned at looked back at him. His pupils were very visibly dilated in the brightness of the witchlight, and he was wearing an expression which made arousal creep up Thomas’s body.

“Why is it so alluring to hear that come from your mouth,” Alastair muttered before pulling their bodies and mouths together once more, with an intensified energy.

4.

The next time that they were almost caught in action was much more of a close-shave, and if it had not been Christopher who had, the whole charade might have been up.

Lucie and Cordelia were out shopping, alongside Anna and Matthew. Lucie had complained before they’d left, as she already only just tolerated shopping, willing to bear it for Cordelia, but apparently having Matthew with them was going to be a pain. Apparently he was a very slow shopper, which meant that the whole outing would take them ages. Thomas could sympathise with her, having been laden with bags on outings before because of his two sisters.

Now there was only one sister to contend with on those trips. He felt a sharp flash of grief beneath his heart, and shut his eyes hard, willing it away. Some days were more of a struggle than others. He could successfully distract himself most of the time, but it was at moments like sitting at the dining table with one empty seat that made his eyes sting.

He’d been left lonesome in the Institute library, James off somewhere with Jem, and Christopher downstairs in the laboratory, tinkering away with papers and fire. Thomas thought it was best to let him be.

A Persian novel was laid out in front of him as he reclined on an armchair, but he was distracted from his studies today. He would become engrossed in thoughts of Alastair, feelings that he began to feel creeping up on him and didn’t dare let develop. Barbara was also on his mind today, a weight on his shoulders that made his mood match the dreary weather outside.

He shut the book in frustration, deciding to stop as he was seeing the words blur together. Thomas rubbed at the bridge of his nose in frustration, and let his head fall back over the sofa.

The door creaked open. He jerked his head up in surprise to see that Alastair was poking his head around the door, scanning the room. When he saw Thomas, he visibly relaxed and stepped into the room, a small smile on his face. Every time he made Alastair smile, it felt like far more of a victory than winning any battle or competition to be had.

“I was just thinking about you,” Thomas said, deciding rashly to be bold.

Alastair looked pleased. “You were?”

“Mm.”

“What about me?” Alastair sauntered over to join Thomas on the edge of the armchair. He smelt of freshly pressed laundry, one of Thomas’s favourite scents.

“Oh, you know,” Thomas said, trying to be casual. “That I missed you.”

There was more, in fact, to that feeling, but Thomas did not want to dwell on it now. They’d been meeting in secret periodically, and each time Thomas felt himself become more enthralled with Alastair, and he felt that what they were doing wasn’t solely in the name of passion now — there was more emotion involved. At least on his behalf. Thomas didn’t know if Alastair felt the same, and did not intend on scaring him away — so he’d tried to keep these feelings under wraps. Tried.

Alastair’s eyebrows lifted fractionally as he took that response in, a look of wonder briefly crossing his face. “You missed me?” He repeated.

“Is that so hard to believe?” Thomas said, laughing. “Yes, I missed you.”

He was worried for a moment that he might have said the wrong thing, only for Alastair to swoop in and plant his lips on Thomas’s. He slid from the armchair and into Thomas’s lap, so that he was straddling him. The contact sent a ripple of pleasure through him, and he automatically threaded his arms around Alastair’s waist and pulled him closer.

They kissed for a brief period of time, but Thomas’s heart wasn’t entirely in it today. He felt like he was cycling through the motions, his mind somewhere else. He wanted desperately to be able to throw himself into kissing Alastair, wholly and fully, but couldn’t.

He must have been more absent than he had previously thought, for Alastair pulled away and gave him a considering look, furrowing his brow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Thomas lied, shifting in his seat.

He sat back on Thomas’s legs, raising his eyebrows. “Your mind is definitively elsewhere. Clearly, there is something wrong, and I am not about to push you into something when you’re not in the right mind.”

Thomas was struck into silence by this, unused to such a degree of attention being payed to him. “I—” he sighed, casting his eyes downward. “I can’t stop thinking about Barbara.”

Alastair tilted Thomas’s chin up to meet his eyes, which had softened immensely. “Then don’t stop. You’re always so kind to everyone else, but you have to also be kind to yourself.”

Thomas’s breath hitched. He felt _seen_.

“Tell me about her.”

And so Thomas found himself telling Alastair about his sister. All the things that he loved about her, that parts that he had found annoying, the little habits that he missed dearly out of his daily routine. The way she had loved him so fiercely, but couldn’t seem to express it in any other way than being motherly. There had been moments where she’d treated him as an adult, as he was, which he had cherished. He missed her sweet tooth that would produce the most excellent baking, he missed her help in training — she would always gently correct his stance — but most of all, he missed her smile. Her eyes. Her embraces.

All the while, Alastair sat on his lap, leaning his head against the edge of the armchair. He was laughing gently as Thomas told him a story that he himself couldn’t remember, but had been told many a time by Barbara and Eugenia. He’d thought it a clever idea as a young child to draw all over her best dress, trying to “make it pretty for Barbara” with wild patterns all over the fabric. Of course, Barbara had come home and almost fainted at the sight, whilst Eugenia went into hysterics.

Alastair had snorted, his rich laughter filling the space between them. It was then that Thomas thought: _I love you_ , and immediately panicked inwardly at the impulsivity of the thought.

Thomas was saved from his internal crisis by the door creaking open once more. Both of them snapped to attention, aware of the comprising position that they were in. Alastair dove off Thomas’s lap to the floor, while Thomas flailed, trying to think of something to do to pass as casual. He spotted the Persian novel on the table next to him, and made a grab for it.

He studied it intensely, feeling a flush creep up his face. He did not look up to see who had walked through the door, afraid of giving too much away with his expression.

“Oh,” Christopher said, mildly. “Hello Thomas. Hello Alastair.”

Alastair cleared his throat, and Thomas looked to see him lying on his back. On the floor. “Afternoon, Christopher.”

“Hello, Kit,” Thomas said abruptly. “Ah, we were just,” he scrambled for an excuse. “Practicing Persian.”

“Sounds fun,” Christopher said, distractedly, strolling around to a bookshelf and plucking a hefty-looking handbook off from the shelf. “I need this.”

“How’s the project?” Thomas called as he strolled back towards the door.

“It’s going passably,” he responded, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Good day.”

He left.

Alastair propped himself up on his elbows, and Thomas exhaled in relief, sliding down the armchair. “Thank the angel that he’s not that perceptive when it comes to people.”

“Really?” Alastair said dryly. “I didn’t notice.”

“Shut it,” Thomas replied without any heat.

“Your book is upside down,” he noted, and Thomas chucked the book in his general direction. “Also —” he ducked, “you know Persian!?”

“Eh,” Thomas grimaced. “To an extent.”

He did not mention that it had been Alastair who’d inspired him to learn it.

Alastair covered his face with his hands. “And to think I’ve let such embarrassing things slip in our time together.”

“Oh yes,” Thomas smirked. “I think my favourite was—”

Alastair threw the book back at him.

5.

“I think we need to find some place that we won’t be disturbed,” Thomas muttered, hearing Cordelia shut the room’s door behind her.

“Agreed,” Alastair’s words were muffled, his face was smushed against Thomas’s chest. Their hasty escape from the bed to the wardrobe meant they’d been forced into a definitively more confined space, especially since Thomas was forced to bend his neck at a right angle to fit.

There had been far too many close encounters for their liking, and it honestly shocked Thomas that no one had found out yet. However, he had seen Anna give him a suspicious look at the fortnightly joint-Lightwood meal when he’d accidentally forgotten to button up his shirt all the way, revealing a bruise Alastair had left on his neck the day before. Lucie had also tilted her head curiously when he’d given his thirtieth flimsy excuse to leave a Devil’s Tavern meet-up early.

Luckily, those two were not the ones that he and Alastair were worried about. Matthew, Cordelia, and James’s reactions were unpredictable, and therefore a risk. Besides, this was all very casual. Emphasis on casual. He didn’t want to jeopardise the group’s friendship and dynamic with a… non-significant arrangement.

Whether he wanted it to be was another question altogether.

“Sir?” A voice jolted him out of his brooding. The mundane woman at the hotel reception held her hand out to him, a key glinting dully in her palm. “Your room key.”

“Ah,” Thomas took it from her with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

He exited the hotel, and hailed a cabbie once he was outside. Now all he needed to do was tell Alastair of the whereabouts of the hotel, meet him there tomorrow, and… figure out a plausible excuse to tell his friends as to why he’d be away for the whole day tomorrow.

The cab rattled down the cobblestone lanes, making Thomas’s head bump against the ceiling of the vehicle. He grimaced. This was why he hated cabs. Much better to have a carriage with a higher roof.

He thanked the driver once they’d arrived outside the Devil’s Tavern, doling out the appropriate fare and tip and bidding him good day. He ducked inside the pub, the familiar smell of booze and grease hitting him instantly. From there he jogged up to their room, letting himself in.

It looked as if Christopher was in the middle of telling the others a very animated story, but stopped when he saw Thomas arrive.

“Hallo Tom,” Matthew greeted him with a lazy hand, draped across the sofa. “Come to save us from Kit’s laboratory adventures?”

Cordelia, seated next to him, kicked him lightly in the shin. “Don’t be rude, Matthew! Carry on, Christopher, _I_ was enjoying it.”

“Thank you, Cordelia,” Christopher said serenely, with a pointed look at Matthew, who gestured to Thomas as if to say: _can you believe this?_

Thomas grinned as he joined the circle, listening to Christopher chatter on about his new idea for faster communication between Nephilim, something he called “fire-messages”.

“I haven’t quite worked out the details entirely, so I was thinking we could put our minds together over lunch tomorrow,” he finished, adjusting his glasses. “What do you say?”

James nodded from his slouch in the armchair. “I’m happy to.”

“As am I,” said Lucie, determined not to be left out.

Matthew stretched out on the recline like a lazy cat. “I could be persuaded. Tom?”

_Shit. “_ I would love to,” he began hesitantly, “but unfortunately I have… erm… a conference to attend to.”

“A conference?” James raised his eyebrows in interest. “Didn’t know you were interested in that sort of academia, Tom.”

“Usually I wouldn’t be.” He said, truthfully. “However, it’s about… Spanish culture. I was beginning to miss… the Spanish culture. So I’ll be out for most of the day tomorrow.”

“No matter,” Matthew waved his hand. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

The discussion then turned towards the subject of Anna and Ariadne, for the two had recently become closer. That is to say, Cordelia took a trip to Anna’s flat and accidentally walked in on them in an “intimate embrace,” as she put it, her cheeks flushing.

“It’s not that I’m not happy for them — I think they’re much happier with each other and make a fine match. I just wonder about what that means for outings with Anna now. Do you think she’ll bring Ariadne along?”

“Unlikely,” Lucie said. “Ariadne doesn’t seem the Hell Ruelle type.”

“Hmm,” Cordelia hummed, looking deep in thought. Thomas knew that her and Anna had become good friends over the past year, and she was probably wondering if that meant her friend’s attention would be diverted.

That response was exactly what he and Alastair wanted to avoid, he thought with a sinking feeling. So much for any hope of perhaps being honest with the group about their significance to each other.

Not that it was a very significant significance, Thomas reminded himself strictly. It was purely a casual arrangement and nothing more. There was little significance to be found. Probably none at all, in fact.

He sighed. At this point, he wasn’t even fooling himself.

* * *

A knock sounded on the hotel door, and Thomas turned from his position at the hotel window.

“Come in,” he said, and the door swung open to reveal Alastair, dressed in casual-wear and wearing a curious expression.

“What are you doing?” He asked Thomas, who drew back the curtain again and gestured for him to come over. Alastair did, and together they watched the buzz of life on the street below them.

“Observing,” Thomas said to answer his question. “It’s strange to think that everyone on that street has their own life. Their own problems. Their own story.”

“Hm,” Alastair stepped closer, peering through the window. “I’ve never thought of it like that.”

He drew back after a moment, letting the sheer curtain fall. “You’re unusually philosophical today,” he commented.

Thomas raised a brow. “What, are you saying that I’m not usually?”

“Depends,” Alastair slide his arms around Thomas’s neck, drawing him close. “You can be after a good—”

He was cut off by Thomas kissing him, although he didn’t manage to entirely wipe the smirk off from Alastair’s face. “Very funny,” Thomas said, in between kisses.

“I’m incredibly comical,” Alastair murmured, melting into his embrace. “Don’t you know?”

“Alright, pipsqueak,” Thomas said, grinning before Alastair had a chance to react. He did though, pulling away with an astonished expression.

“Did you just…?” He asked, squinting.

Thomas tugged him by the loops on his trousers. “How does it feel?” He asked, nonchalantly.

“Frankly, I don’t know whether to feel aroused or offended,” Alastair drawled, startling a laugh out of Thomas.

They kissed again, but unlike most instances when they’d managed to be temporarily alone, it was slow. Sweet. Thomas sighed into the embrace, relaxing entirely. He could almost imagine a bubble around the two of them when they were together, completely impervious to the rush of the world surrounding them.

“Where do the others think you are right now?” Alastair asked against his lips, as they separated for breath.

Thomas let out a huff of embarrassment, his eyes darting around the room. “At a Spanish conference.”

Alastair was silent.

“What?” Thomas pressed.

“A Spanish conference?” He repeated, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Thomas gestured exasperatedly. “It was an in-the-moment excuse, alright?”

Alastair threw his head back and burst into raucous laughter.

“It’s not funny!” Thomas protested, but he began to laugh as well. He couldn’t help it — there was something infectious about Alastair’s laugh.

“Well, my family think I’m visiting one of the boys from the Academy,” Alastair said as he wiped a tear from his eye after his laughter had died down. “Which is slightly suspicious as I hate most of them, but oh well.”

“See, you’re just as bad a liar as I am!” Thomas exclaimed.

“But my delivery is impeccable,” added Alastair with an air of superiority.

“Hmm,” Thomas thought back to Alastair’s poker face when discussing his father or Charles around others. “That’s true, I suppose.”

It had only been because he’d been around Alastair when he was younger that he was able to see past the façade. He’d always been (slightly embarrassingly) obsessed with him in a rather starry-eyed manner. Trailing after him meant that Alastair was softer on him than the others when he’d be prone to lash out. He’d occasionally glimpse a vulnerability that Alastair kept tightly locked away otherwise, which gave him a hope that one day Alastair would let down the wall sealing him off from everyone.

And he had. Looking at him in Thomas’s arms now, a lingering smile from their banter and his gaze openly affectionate, it was hard to believe that he was the same person that had once snarled and sneered at others to deflect.

“What’s that look for?” Alastair asked, curiously. Thomas realised that his feelings must be starkly written across his face, and quickly smiled to wipe his expression.

“Nothing,” he shook his head ruefully. “I’m just happy to be here.”

Alastair seemed to be satisfied with his answer, for he leaned in to kiss him again. However, just before their lips met, he stopped, a hair’s breadth away.

“I was thinking,” he breathed, his dark eyes darting around Thomas’s face. “That perhaps we could try… going all the way.”

Thomas immediately felt a rush of arousal, and his breath hitched.

“Only if you want to, though.” Alastair added hastily. “It’s perfectly all right if you — if you don’t feel comfortable—”

“Alastair,” he interrupred, then hesitated. “ _Sheereen-am_.” Alastair stopped immediately at the Persian. “I want to.”

“You just—” Alastair’s eyes blinked up at him, and he surged forward, kissing Thomas fiercely. Thomas clung on, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, walking backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed.

He sat down, and broke away to ask: “Do you have—?”

Alastair groped around in his pocket and fished the items in question out. Thomas grinned and shook his jacket off feverishly, throwing it to one side. Alastair did the same, kicking off his shoes and socks until he was dressed only in a light shirt and his trousers. Thomas shifted up to the middle of the bed, and Alastair followed, kneeling over him. He cradled Thomas’s face in his hands, kissing him eagerly.

Thomas gripped the backs of Alastair’s thighs and brought him down onto his lap, the contact making them both groan into each other’s mouths. Thomas yanked his shirt over his head, and Alastair stared at his chest.

“What?” Thomas questioned breathlessly.

“I — ah,” Alastair stumbled over his words. “I’ve never seen your… physique properly.”

He glanced down at his chest, confused. It was nothing spectacular, it was a fact that he was far more muscled than he had been before Madrid. “Surely you must have the first time?”

“I was completely smashed,” Alastair breathed distractedly, running his hands over the muscle. “They’re so… _defined_. You have no idea how beautiful you are.”

He said the last part gazing into Thomas’s eyes, and Thomas again felt that rush of throat-constricting tenderness. Alastair ducked his head and began to kiss down Thomas’s neck, and Thomas let himself fall backwards on the bed so that he was lying down. Alastair continued down until he reached his chest, and Thomas let his eyes fall shut in pleasure.

Alastair eventually paused to wrench his shirt and trousers off, and crawled back up Thomas’s body to prop himself over him and kiss him. It was beginning to become heated, Thomas sliding his hands down Alastair’s back and sliding past his undergarments, Alastair encouraged by this and feverishly kissing him. It was all _so much_ , Thomas thought he might die from bliss.

It was then a knock sounded on their door.

This time, he was not having it.

Thomas dislodged himself from Alastair’s mouth to shout at the door. “Go _AWAY_.”

Alastair looked at him with pupils dilated as the footsteps hurried away from their door. He seemed to be unable to say anything. Thomas gave him a quizzical expression, until Alastair flipped them over with Shadowhunter strength, so that Thomas was now propped above him.

“Ah,” he said, realising. Alastair pulled him back down for another kiss, needy and gasping.

Thomas reached for the bedside table mid-kiss for the essentials, and then looked at them in a sort of terror. How on earth was he meant to do this?

A hand caught at his wrist. Alastair was sitting up, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

He nodded, and got to work. Soon enough, Alastair was pliant and splayed beneath him, gripping his back and moving with him. His eyes were closed, sweat gathering at his brow, a look of bliss on his face.

The sight made Thomas flush with heat, pleasure sending his mind into overdrive as he moved once more—twice more—

***

Alastair hummed as he lay flat on his stomach, half under the bedsheet as they came down together. Thomas was busy blinking the stars out of his vision, staring up at the ceiling in attempt to regain his senses.

He shifted his head so that he was looking at Alastair, whose eyes were low lidded with tiredness. He met Thomas’s gaze, and he stretched out a hand in invitation. Thomas grasped it lightly, the meeting of fingertips feeling more intimate than what they had just done.

The sun lit the room with a soft glow as Thomas shifted close to him, strips of light running across Alastair’s brown skin and turning it a dark gold. There was no need to say anything that they did not already feel; their silence was understood by one another.

He felt his eyes slide shut as Alastair moved his hand to stroke at Thomas’s hair, a sure-fire way to send him off to sleep. As the tendrils of sleep pulled him under, he did not quite catch the Persian that Alastair murmured into the space between them.

_“Doostetaan daaram.”_

_I love you._

+1.

Thomas drifted awake lazily, far too cosy and comfortable to care about any sense of urgency. He could feel something warm pressed against him, and cracked one eye open slowly to see Alastair’s blurry shape in front of him.

He gave a contented sigh, and nestled closer to Alastair, who was curled up in front of him, back against Thomas’s front. He lay there for some time, letting the time pass by in the space between waking and sleeping, Thomas’s hand draped over Alastair’s side. They fit together well, Thomas thought absently.

Eventually Alastair stirred, stretching his legs out against Thomas’s own, entwining them. He burrowed his head into the pillow, making a long grumbling sound.

“Someone’s cheery,” Thomas mumbled, not opening his eyes as he nosed the back of Alastair’s neck.

“Mmghdn,” Alastair hummed. Thomas planted a kiss where he’d been nuzzling, and Alastair actually made a sort of purring sound.

They lay contentedly for a minute, Thomas breathing in Alastair’s scent. Finally, Alastair stretched once more, and rolled over so that they were facing each other, noses almost touching.

“Hello,” Thomas said, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile.

“Hello yourself,” Alastair said softly. He shifted his hand so that his fingers were lightly twined with Thomas’s, his dark eyes were shimmering in the mid-morning glow. They were so close that Thomas could count each individual eyelash that was on Alastair’s face.

It was funny, he reflected. How intimate they’d become. When they’d first started this whole thing, Thomas couldn’t have imagined that he’d soon be curled up in a bed in such close proximity, simply holding hands.

“I’ve been thinking,” Alastair began, his fingers circling in Thomas’s palm absent-mindedly.

“Hmm?”

He lowered his eyes, still playing with Thomas’s hand. “I think I’d be alright with Cordelia and the others knowing. About us.”

Thomas felt his eyebrows raise. “Truly? Even Matthew?”

“Ah, who cares anymore,” Alastair said offhandedly. “All I know is that I care about you. And I don’t want to have to sneak around others and make it — make you feel like… like something embarrassing. Like this is some sort of great scandalous secret.”

“I don’t feel like a secret,” Thomas said, ponderingly. He added dryly: “Although, it is a little bit scandalous.”

“Well, maybe to our families,” Alastair huffed. “I don’t care of their thoughts on the matter — it’s up to you. If you don’t feel ready, or…”

Thomas let that sink in. He wasn’t sure how to process the fact that Alastair only cared for being with Thomas, and not anyone else’s opinions. There was a great deal of feeling there, laying beneath those words. And yet it was the perfect description of how Thomas himself felt.

“Oh, to hell with it,” Thomas said abruptly. “I feel the same. Let’s just do it.”

Alastair looked surprised. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Thomas affirmed, and Alastair’s face split into a grin, and he kissed him lightly on the mouth.

“Now we just need to figure out how to tell them,” he said, and Alastair pulled a face.

“Yes…” he trailed off, looking thoughtful. “It should be thought out. Not much of a shock. It doesn’t need to be soon, either.”

“Let’s take our time,” Thomas agreed. “The moment will arrive.”

* * *

The moment did, in fact, arrive. Though not as they’d planned it.

Every so often, there’d be an opportunity for all the Shadowhunters of the London Institute (past and present) to have dinner together. It was a lovely opportunity to have everyone in one place, as so often there would be an adult that needed to dash out somewhere or attend to some duty. Bridget would cook her best meals, as Thomas’s mother was in attendance, and she had a soft spot for her. Not that she’d ever admit it.

Since Cordelia and her family had moved to London, they’d also been welcomed to these events. It had been a while — Thomas remembered the tension of the first one with a shudder. It had been in the days of Cordelia’s and James’s fake marriage, and when there had been tension between Alastair and practically everyone, including himself. Naturally there had been more than a few awkward silences.

The meals had become much more agreeable now that everything was settled. Thomas was looking forward to tonight, as he always loved a family gathering. There was always banter between the adults and children, as they had recently started treating them more like they were grown, which was enjoyable.

“May I take your coat, good sir?” James greeted him cheerfully at the Institute door, Cordelia at his elbow. They really were quite sickening now that they were really married — but Thomas supposed that must be similar to how he and Alastair were.

Just thinking of him sent a shot of adrenaline through his body. Revealing their relationship was on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to do it tonight. It was too large an audience.

“You may,” Thomas said, shucking off his coat and handing it to James, who hung it on the coat-rack. His father and mother followed suit, alongside Eugenia, who seemed a lot more calm than usual. Still, her eyes darted around the Institute as if she was trying to spot unfamiliar people that could potentially spread gossip.

Thomas grasped her hand with a reassuring smile as they walked towards the dining hall. “It’s alright.”

She looked down in surprise at their hands, then gave a rueful sigh. “I know.”

Once there, he spotted Christopher hanging around with Lucie and Anna, and he walked over to join them with Eugenia. There were a chorus of greetings, and Anna complimented Eugenia on her gown, to which she looked momentarily surprised, but thanked her. Thomas felt a pang of sympathy for his sister, as she was still nervous even though the whole mess had died down.

“The real question is,” Christopher observed, looking around the room. “Where is the food?”

“Patience, Chris,” Anna chided. “Half the party aren’t even here yet.”

She was right — Thomas saw that the clump of adults was only his mother, father, Tessa, Will, Aunt Cecily, and Uncle Gabriel.

James and Cordelia had just entered though, with the Fairchild clan. Charlotte had even taken a break from her work to join them for the event. Matthew made a beeline for their group as soon as he saw them, escaping Charles, who looked disgruntled as per usual.

It was such a change to feel nothing when he saw Charles. He remembered the days when envy had clutched at him whenever he’d see him and Alastair interact, not even recognising the emotion. Now he felt contentment.

Speak of the devil: The rest of the Carstairs family had arrived, alongside Ariadne Bridgestock. Minus Elias — Alastair had said that he had returned to Idris to “sort himself out” before properly returning to the family. Sona looked lovely in an emerald gown, and without the baby, whom he presumed was being taken care of by Risa. Alastair walked by her side, his eyes lighting up when he met eyes with Thomas.

He split from Sona, and joined their group — albeit still a little hesitantly, although they all got on just fine with him now. Life-or-death situations tended to bond people.

Thomas was about to greet him, when Will announced loudly that they were to sit down and eat. The group dispersed, and everyone gathered around to the table to be seated. He and Alastair met eyes awkwardly as they moved to sit together, but then thought better in unison with one another, and moved a few seats apart.

“Now, I hope you’re all prepared for a night of high-spirits and mediocre food—” Will began, and a few of the adults laughed before Bridget’s voice rang out from the kitchen.

“I heard that!”

“Anyways,” he continued, meeting Tessa’s gaze sheepishly. “I’ll keep it brief. What a pleasure it is to have you all here. Let’s have a toast please, to family!”

Thomas raised his glass alongside everyone else, and gave a cheer. The meal passed in a blur, everyone chattering away and laughing to one another. Matthew and Anna down the younger side of the table were teasing James and Cordelia about “married life”, whilst Lucie and Jesse engaged in conversation with Alastair, Ariadne and Eugenia. Thomas had been roped into discussing experiments with Christopher, which was something that Thomas didn’t mind at all doing. It always gave him joy to see Christopher excited over one thing or another.

At one point, he looked to the end of the table, and it was like looking at one of the many portraits of their parents dotted around the Institute, with a few extra faces. All of the adults were catching up with one another, smiling and jubilant. Even Charles looked interested in a topic that wasn’t politics.

Desert arrived, and the adults moved the conversation across the table. That was really where Thomas should’ve seen it coming.

“So now that we have one happily married couple,” Cecily began, inclining her head towards James and Cordelia. “When will you all start settling down like them?”

“You know my answer, mother,” Anna said, with a cheeky grin.

“Yes, dear,” Cecily said, cheerily. “You’re a lothario at heart.”

Will guffawed. “Surely there must be a hint of an arrangement from someone here. Other than my daughter and the Blackthorn boy.”

“Dad!” Lucie protested, but locked eyes with Jesse and grinned. 

“I certainly won’t be,” Matthew added, taking another spoonful of the pudding. “But I know someone who could be.”

Thomas did not like that tone, nor the way Matthew winked at him.

His mother caught this movement. “Thomas,” she said, startled. “Do you have something to tell us?”

“No,” Thomas said automatically, glaring at Matthew. There was no way that he knew… right?

“Well,” Matthew elaborated, always a sucker for light gossip. “I caught my dear friend Thomas here with someone on the morning of James’s wedding.”

Lucie stifled a giggle as Thomas flushed. Oh bother. He didn’t know, but Thomas didn’t know whether that was worse. Matthew was speaking unknowingly of someone that he didn’t particularly get along with, and who Thomas was trying very hard to avoid eye contact within that moment.

“Ooh,” Cecily gasped. “I bet I know who it is, Thomas! Remember that girl from the Madrid Institute that you used to talk about?”

“Isabella?” His mother responded, her eyebrows raising. “Really?”

Anna raised her eyebrows, and Thomas remembered their conversation from many months ago. Christ.

“What!” Thomas exclaimed indignantly. “No! Why would you think that? Besides, it doesn’t matter.”

“Alright, darling,” his mother soothed, sensing his discomfort at the attention.

“No, wait,” Matthew held up a hand. “Can I please know? I almost caught you, after all.”

He said it with a winning smile, but Thomas sputtered. “In what way does that make it any more probable that I would tell you!”

“Aha!” Matthew exclaimed, pointing a finger. “So you do admit there was someone there.”

“If there wasn’t,” James added, “you should definitely meet up with her again. She sounded very nice.”

Thomas could feel everyone’s eyes on him as he responded. “What — no, I can’t!”

“Why not?” Tessa asked out of curiosity. His mother elbowed her.

“Because!” Thomas said, beginning to perspire under the collar.

“Because why?” Eugenia asked, tilting her head in puzzlement.

“Because I’m in love with Alastair!” Thomas blurted out, and immediately clapped a hand over his mouth in shock of what he’d just said.

Charles dropped his spoon onto his plate, while Matthew inhaled his desert that he’d just been about to eat, and started to choke viscously on it. James pounded him on the back, wide-eyed.

Cordelia had also accidentally inhaled some of her wine, and was coughing into her elbow. She managed to wheeze out: “What?!”

“Am I supposed to be surprised?” Christopher said nonchalantly.

Thomas felt his fingers go numb, and he stared down at his plate. “I…”

“You love me?” Alastair’s quiet voice snapped him out of his shock. He was looking across at Thomas, his eyes bright. Looking at him, it was as if they were the only two people in the room.

“Alright!” Cecily shouted, standing up. “Everybody out!”

Everybody scrambled to get up from their seats to leave, most of them still with shocked expressions on their faces.

“I’m getting déjà vu,” Thomas heard his father mutter, and looked towards him for a moment. He caught his eye, and if he had been afraid of any judgement, that was dissolved. Gideon Lightwood was wearing a proud expression on his face, and gave Thomas a nod which meant “we’ll speak about this in detail later”.

At last everyone was gone, and Thomas made his way over to Alastair, who was looking at him with a fond expression.

“You don’t do anything by halves, do you Lightwood?” He said in an amused tone.

“Alastair,” he murmured, and Alastair’s gaze softened at once. “I do love you.”

“I know,” he responded, stepping closer to Thomas, and taking his hands. “And I love you.”

“You do?” Thomas replied, dumbfounded.

“Yes, you dolt,” Alastair said with exasperated fondness. “Since you tumbled out of that bed with an ungainly shriek.”

“I did not shriek!” Thomas protested, but was far too happy to maintain a grouchy front, instead letting the smile that had been bubbling up inside him appear. He bent to kiss Alastair, who met him halfway on tiptoes. He was warm and familiar and tasted faintly of the cherries that had been in the pudding.

“I lied,” Alastair murmured in the midst of the kisses, and Thomas pulled away to create the shortest of distances between them. He had felt a flutter of nerves hearing the words, but Alastair’s eyes only crinkled as he whispered: “I think I’ve loved you the whole damn time.”

Thomas paused a moment before letting out a peal of laughter, Alastair’s face puzzled at the abruptness of the gesture. “What is it?”

“Oh,” Thomas said, breathlessly. “You have no idea how long I have felt that way. I’m not sure I even realised until now.”

“Now you have to tell me,” Alastair said wryly, his head tilting to the side. “Since Paris?”

Thomas grimaced. “Try again.”

Alastair’s eyes widened. “Since the _Academy_?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“But I was such a twit!” Alastair said, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“It seems like I saw past that,” Thomas shrugged, and a look of sheer wonder flitted across Alastair’s face.

“Thomas Lightwood,” he began, his voice wavering, but before he could hear what Alastair had to say in response, the doors to the dining room swung open dramatically, and Cordelia came storming towards them, a look of intensity upon her face.

“Pray for me,” Thomas muttered to Alastair, who couldn’t conceal the snort he let out. He did, though, take Thomas’s hand and squeeze it briefly in support of whatever was about to come, which made Thomas’s heart lift in quiet joy.

Cordelia came to a halt before them, her dark eyes darting towards Thomas before resting on her brother. She placed her hands on her hips.

_Oh no._

“I want you to know,” Cordelia said, pursing her lips. “That firstly, I have not been eavesdropping. And secondly, I do not disapprove.”

Alastair nodded gratefully, and some of the tension eased from Thomas’s body, and he slackened the grip he had on Alastair’s hand.

“But,” Cordelia continued, now crossing her arms over her chest, her intensity not diminished. “I would like to know how long this has been occurring.”

“Yes,” James said, joining Cordelia at her side and looking at them inquisitively. “How long have you concealed this? I had no idea.”

“Nor I,” added Matthew with a raised eyebrow as he joined their group, alongside Christopher, Lucie, and Anna. Matthew jerked his head towards Christopher disbelievingly. “Although Chris said that he’s known for ages!”

“You have?” Thomas and Alastair said in shocked unison, and Christopher merely adjusted his spectacles.

“It was rather obvious when I caught you two behaving very conspicuously in the library,” Chris said matter-of-factly. “The excuse you gave was rather poor, as well. “Studying Persian”, if I remember rightly.”

“We thought you hadn’t noticed,” Thomas said sheepishly, as James repeated “The library!” in a scandalised manner, as if the books could have been desacralised by their activities.

“Can we please get back to the matter at hand?” Cordelia said impatiently, and turned towards the two of them expectantly.

Alastair cleared his throat, and addressed his sister with a slight air of discomfort. “Since the night before the wedding.”

Cordelia deflated, to Thomas’s surprise. “For that amount of time?”

She must have sensed their confusion, for she elaborated, her eyes sad when they looked at her brother. “You didn’t trust me enough to tell me?”

“What—” Alastair started, moving to correct her. “No, Layla — we only meant to keep it a secret to stop it blowing up into something bigger,” he explained. “Or because we thought some might take it the wrong way. But,” he hesitated, glancing at Thomas before continuing. “I feel that we made those excuses to bury what we actually felt for one another. I speak for myself here,” he added hastily, looking again at Thomas.

“No, I agree,” Thomas concurred, laying his hand on Alastair’s shoulder, sharing a small smile with him. “I was afraid at what I felt so early.”

“Alastair,” Cordelia said with a waver in her voice, startling them both out of their moment. She was looking at her brother with glassy eyes, and then unexpectedly flung herself forward onto him, causing Alastair to let out an ‘ _oof’_.

“I only want you to be happy,” Cordelia said into his shoulder, which muffled the watery nature to her speech. Alastair slid his arms around her after a moment of shock and clung on.

“I know,” he replied, his voice thick. He closed his eyes — but not before Thomas saw that they were slightly wet. He decided to step away and give the two siblings a moment.

“I’m happy to see that you made your move,” Anna’s voice tore his gaze away from them, and she looked amused when he met her eyes, but also — proud.

There was a lot of that in the room, Thomas thought to himself, a fact which made a fierce sense of relief and joy burn inside of him.

“Well,” he admitted, scratching his neck again. “Only with the help of some liquor.”

“Hold on,” James interrupted, looking between them both. He pointed at Anna in dismay. “You knew too?”

Anna sighed, clearly troubled at her cousin’s lack of awareness. “It was very clear. Thomas has been pining after him since he was shipped off to the Academy.”

“Erm, I wouldn’t go that far—” Thomas objected, but James cut across him, slapping his forehead in exasperation.

“Oh, I’m such an idiot!” He exclaimed, rounding on Thomas. “That’s why you always hung around him! Oh, this explains a lot,” he said to himself, running a hand through his black mop of hair.

“Ah, I see,” Matthew also said slowly, his eyes widening as he caught onto how embarrassingly long Thomas had been admiring from afar. “Gosh, we really are thick.”

“I’m not,” Christopher interjected, but to deaf ears as Matthew and James both recounted together the events of their past with this newfound realisation.

“And remember that time when said that he wasn’t admiring any ladies—”

“Or when he would always take his side in arguments!”

“I’m very happy for you, Thomas,” Lucie said brightly, ignoring the boys. She too stepped forward and embraced him, and Thomas ruffled her hair fondly as she did.

A thought occurred to him as Lucie pulled away, and he directed it towards Matthew. “So Matthew — you aren’t upset?”

Matthew dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “Tom, it doesn’t matter to me. I only care that you are happy, and by looks of things, it certainly seems that way.”

Thomas accepted this answer with a relieved smile, and Matthew added: “Besides, I… tolerate Carstairs. He’s alright, really.”

He said it with a little reluctance, but he did grin when Alastair called dryly: “The feeling is mutual.” 

The group broke out into laughs at his response, and the tension from the whole situation dissolved as Alastair and Cordelia rejoined their group, Cordelia asking Christopher for the details of his encounter with the two of them “concealing” their arrangement. There were quite a few laughs at how he described them — “I believe Thomas was reading his book upside down,” Christopher said, perhaps enjoying the retelling a bit too much for Thomas’s taste — and when he glanced over to where the adults were hovering by the door, he saw that his mother and father were engaging in conversation with Sona Carstairs.

He felt completely at peace as he took in the love and support of the room, and shuffled over to Alastair’s side as Christopher continued his tale. Alastair leaned into him unconsciously, and met his eyes with a mix of amusement, and what Thomas now recognised as love.

Thomas returned this with an enamoured smile, and wound his fingers around Alastair’s, securing their hands together.

Everything was going to be all right.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @minimoffs or on twitter @parkeriucks! also expect some more of these two from me bc im love them ;)


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